Page 7 of A Deal with a Rake (Wicked Widows’ League #35)

But the old duke was nothing compared to her mother. Florentia would live a lifetime with him if it meant she’d never have to live a single night with her mother ever again. Perhaps if she’d married for love, or wedded a younger man, marrying again would be a more appealing prospect.

“I have no interest in joining their Widow’s League.” Reading Charity’s letter next, she smiled at her friend’s invitation to have dinner with her and the earl.

The earl, of course, would most likely be in bed before dinner began, but it was indeed entertaining for Florentia to read, “The earl and I would very much enjoy your company.”

“You are a prominent widow now, why not join the league? Perhaps they could assist with the widow’s portion?” Tabetha said, passing Florentia a sponge.

“There is no assistance to be had. My father was forced into the agreement by my mother with no care for my future at all.” Florentia began bathing herself, relaxing in the water.

She had always enjoyed bathing more than sponge baths. Immersing herself in the tub calmed her and made her feel anew.

“The league is very powerful, perhaps this meeting could be worth your time.” Tabetha pointed to the remaining missive on the table. “You have not opened Mr. Hughes’s letter. It was delivered by messenger. Perhaps it is urgent.”

Dipping her head back, Florentia submerged herself under the water, ignoring her maid. She enjoyed her conversations with Tabetha, but sometimes she was too opinionated and disapproving.

Rising from beneath the water, she sat back again, her breath coming out harsher than before as she inhaled deeply.

She didn’t care what the solicitor had to say.

Mr. Hughes had been a thorn in her side since the duke died.

The less she dealt with him, the better.

Besides, the last she’d heard, no one could locate the eldest O’Brien son.

There could be months before he was located, and until then, the dukedom was hers.

“Leave me. I shall stay in the tub a little longer,” Florentia said, relaxing back in the tepid water.

It was rather difficult for the servants to deliver hot water from the kitchens in such a large house. Usually by the time she was submerged in the tub, the water was already cooling.

Florentia opened her withered copy of Frankenstein , removing the pale-yellow ribbon she had placed between the thin pages.

A smile teased at her lips as she began reading.

There was something magnificent about reading, the way it carried her away from all her problems and the world around her.

It thrilled her, gave her an escape like no other she’d ever experience.

It didn’t matter that she had read that book hundreds of times. Every time she’d read about Victor Frankenstein and his monster, she always discovered something new she hadn’t noticed before.

Raised voices startled her. “Tabetha, is something the matter?” she asked, before setting the book on the small table beside the tub.

Before she could rise, a gentleman walked into the bathing chambers, yet he didn’t look like a gentleman at all.

No, he was too rough, too big, too viral.

A tall, intimidating frame filled the entire threshold of the bathing chamber. Crisp blue eyes, slightly widened in shock, gazed down at her. His lip was busted, the corner of his eye slightly bruised.

A thrill of excitement slid through her, settling in between her thighs, her sex suddenly pulsing with need.

Whoever this brute of a man was, she wasn’t afraid of him.

Florentia was sure that any rational minded lady would be terrified.

But Florentia had never been rational a day in her life. Who had time for such precautions?

He leaned against the threshold. Broad shoulders bulged under his faded white shirt, which was scandalously open at the neck, revealing tufts of red chest hair.

Who was he? A robber, perhaps?

No. Tabetha would be screaming bloody murder.

Florentia tried to ignore how her body reacted to this feral stranger.

Clear blue eyes—like the sky on a rare bright sunny day—danced; a wicked grin was on his face.

He wasn’t classically handsome, with his nose that looked as if it had been broken a time or two, and a sharp prominent chin, that she ridiculously wanted to lick, jutting out towards her.

“Hello, Princess,” he greeted, like they were lovers or old friends, but they were neither.

Regaining her wits, Florentia ran her fingers through her hair, the ends damp from her bath and barely covering her breasts. “Who are you?” she asked, in her most disagreeable voice.

It was the voice she’d often used to insult someone. It scared most people, including her late husband. Perhaps it was that voice, and the pretense of not being afraid of him, that eventually saved her from him. The late Duke of Summerset would’ve destroyed a lesser woman.

This beast of a man, however, did not flutter an eyelash.

He stepped into the bathing chambers, his gaze lingering on her naked body before looking away. It was rude and impertinent, but also a challenge to see if she was some simpering lady of the ton .

She was not.

“I’m Tavish O’Brien, the new Duke of Summerset, and you’re in my chambers, Princess.”

Bloody hell. They’d found him.